“Hmm,” I said to myself, turning the key one more time. This is what happens if you don’t use your car over Christmas. The starter motor ticked while the engine struggled to wheeze into action. No dice. Flat battery.
I was in the Co-Op car park, thankfully safe, but also a bit mystified. I’d arrived there okay, been to the library, got some lunch to take back to my desk. Now this.
Moments later, I was munching on a plant-based sandwich, watching the world go by. If I had to guess I’d say the electric scooter was the big Christmas gift this year - especially for young teenagers. Plenty of them whizzed past on the way to Costa, leaving tired looking parents behind as they went. In my day, I thought, it might have been a Nintendo 64, or perhaps a Furbie. No danger of those things being confiscated by the police.
I was remarkably cool about the flat battery thing. I used to really stress about that stuff but somehow, this time, I knew there wasn’t much to be done. I phoned Sammy to ask her to pick me up, we went home, then later we went back with Malcolm and Josh to jumpstart the car. It’s now home, and ready to be put on charge.
Maybe it’s an age thing, getting less stressed by the difficulties of life? Perhaps I’m finally learning to hold things lightly, though I can fairly say, that’s taken about a lifetime - lightly does it. Don’t panic. What’s that noise? That my heart beating faster? Adrenaline? Yeah. No bother. I’m cool.
You telling yourself that? Well of course I am. But perhaps that’s how it’s done. Tell yourself a thing enough and who knows, it becomes true after a while?
“What I’d really like,” I said when we finally got home, “… is not to have a car at all, but to be driven around by a chauffeur - like some sort of VIP.”
Sammy arched an eyebrow, as she slipped her car keys into her pocket. “Hmm,” she seemed to say, thoughtfully.
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